


twotty twitty twiddle means to your right a little

by nicrouleaucanrouleauintomybed



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rimming, cottaging, i need to find jesus and so does kevin price
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicrouleaucanrouleauintomybed/pseuds/nicrouleaucanrouleauintomybed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>19 year old Kevin meets a pretty stranger in a public toilet and things escalate quickly from there</p><p>WARNING: explicit sex. really, really, really explicit sex. about 2/3 sex and 1/3 fluff - basically, fluff and sex (but mostly sex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	twotty twitty twiddle means to your right a little

If he’s to be truthful about the whole thing, Kevin hasn’t been this excited since he went to Orlando when he was nine and – nope, nope, nope, he is stopping that train of thought _right there_ , he is not associating a memory as pure and as innocent as that with something like – like _this_.

Oh, _heck_.

Kevin takes a deep breath, glances around to make certain that there’s no one he knows around him, and takes a few steps towards the men’s toilets, tentative at first and then surer and surer.

The first thing that hits Kevin as he creaks open the door is the smell. It’s not – it’s not awful, exactly, just very obviously there no matter how much air freshener the cleaners use. There must be cleaners, thankfully, as it’s no grimier than your average public toilet. He considers saying thank you to his Heavenly Father but then he remembers why he’s here, what he came for, and he decides that thanking Him would be a little inappropriate.

So, no, it’s not awful. The air just smells a little salty, which embarrassingly enough just gets Kevin that little bit more excited. He recognizes it from his own little jaunts at home, knows what it means, and he’s suddenly very thankful that he’s alone.

Kevin ducks into the first cubicle, dithers over locking the door behind him. He’s not exactly sure what the etiquette is. He’s not even sure if there is etiquette in the first place – never mind that, he’s not even sure if he’s in the right place. He’s heard rumors, that’s it: rumors, and the memories of being told to not go near those toilets, young man, by his mom when he was a kid. 

When he turns, the first thing Kevin sees is an empty wrapper on the window ledge above the toilet. He takes a step closer only to – yep, nope, yep, that’s an empty condom wrapper, he’s definitely in the right place – or the wrong place. Oh, gosh, he’s definitely in the wrong place, what is he even doing here?

Kevin slowly sits down on the lid of the toilet, wringing his hands. To say he’s nervous is an understatement but it’s a good nervous, he thinks. He _wants_ this, wants to know what it’s like to – he’s still too young to get into bars and clubs, probably wouldn’t want to even if he could, and he doesn’t really know any other way to meet anyone else like him.

There’s a noise, and Kevin perks up.

A man just walked through the door.

A man just walked through the door into the public toilets.

A man just walked through the door into the public toilets known for encounters between men with him, Kevin, a man, specifically one who came here looking for a said encounter, also being in said public toilets.

Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh.

The man’s footsteps aren’t heavy as he walks into the cubicle next to his which Kevin takes as being a good sign, probably. He’s seen pictures of some of the more muscled men you can find in clubs and at prides and he really doesn’t think he’s ready for that. His footsteps are light, very light, in fact, and rhythmic, and, oh gosh, what if it isn’t a man at all? What if it’s a child? A child in a place like this, a place which is used for things that a child should never, ever be exposed to, and Kevin’s about to launch straight into a panic when there’s another noise. Quick, sharp, quiet, maybe the tap of a foot on the floor. Kevin blinks.

Well, there’s no harm, he thinks, and taps his own foot on the floor – and there it is again. From the cubicle next to him, a double tap, and Kevin repeats it back to him. There’s silence, and Kevin is unsure whether he’s relieved or disappointed that he might’ve done something wrong when there’s the sound of the door opening again and – oh, _heck_.

“You going to let me in or what?” says a voice and, oh gosh. It’s a little high-pitched, maybe, but Kevin honestly doesn’t think he’s heard a voice more flirty in his life. He’s only knocked out of his lust-induced haze ( _already_ , keep it together, Price) by another knock on the door.

“Right, yes, of course, sorry,” Kevin replies quickly, leaping to his feet to open the door to reveal – oh, _dang_ it.

He’s tall, taller even than him, maybe, and skinny, with legs that go on forever. His eyes could probably be compared to some sort of jewel if he so wished (Kevin might be gay but he is not _that_ gay) but they’re not what he is focusing on. A few inches under, actually: soft, pink lips curled in an amused smile, and a tongue that – a tongue that just – and Kevin really, really has the urge to cover his crotch right now.

“Took you long enough,” the boy says, and Kevin thinks boy because he doubts he’s any older than his nineteen years and because he doesn’t know his name.

He would be panicking about the name-giving etiquette if it wasn’t for the fact that he has far better things to focus on: how the boy just closed and locked the door behind him, for one, and then sidled in so close to Kevin that his back is now pressed slightly painfully against the wall.

How the boy just gives him this _look_ , this up and down sweep that ended with a satisfied smile for another before he moved in to –

“Kevin, my name is Kevin,” he blurts, and the boy pauses.

“Well, unless you think I’m going to be screaming it later, I don’t really need to know,” the boy tells him, before he leans back, gives him an amused look. Kevin knows that he’s blushing but he didn’t realise it was to _that_ extent. “This is your first time, isn’t it?”

An excruciatingly long moment passes before Kevin is able to swallow and slowly nod, and the boy hums and moves back a little.

“Should’ve known. Okay, then, Kevin,” he says slowly, but it’s no less seductive, a long finger moving to gently pull at his bottom lip and Kevin is suddenly really, really glad for the self-restraint given to him by his Mormon upbringing because, without it, he’s pretty sure he would’ve come in his pants just from that. “I’ll make you a deal. I can go as slow as you like for you, because I think you’re just that cute, as long as you are willing to give me a little something in return.”

“Like what?”

“You get on your knees for me,” the boy says, and it’s so careless that Kevin has to bite down on his tongue hard to keep from making a sound. “Is that okay?”

Kevin swallows, thinks it over, and slowly says, “What if I said no?”

The boy just lifts his hands away up into the air. “Then I’m wasting my time.”

“No, I mean - what if I wanted you to do what you normally do?”

“Now I’m interested. Go on.”

“Uh,” Kevin swallows again. “What is it that you normally do?”

“You wanna find out?”

Kevin slowly nods, and a smile spreads across the boy’s face. He steps back in, and Kevin’s legs spread for him embarrassingly easily, instinctively. His eyes track down Kevin’s body, from his eyes to his lips to even further, and Kevin thinks he may as well be naked for the amount of lust in his gaze. His fingers are not far behind, undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one by one, tracing down his trembling chest as it rises and falls with his desperate attempts to keep his breathing even. His hand is cold against his heated skin, which doesn’t exactly help with the trembling, and Kevin feels such a fool for not being able to do anything in return.

“That feel good?” The boy doesn’t seem to mind, though, smirk mischievous and eyes darting between Kevin’s and his lips as he trails his fingers over his hipbone, down his stomach, dipping just slightly beneath his waistband.

Kevin’s stomach leaps and shivers beneath his touch, rising and falling with his desperate attempts to keep his breathing even as he pants, “Yeah.”

The boy quietly laughs, and Kevin can _feel_ the smile in his lips as he presses them against his throat, can feel a whole lot more when he bites down, barely even noticing him making quick work of his belt as he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan. He claps his hand over his mouth immediately, the sound echoing around the toilets, and the boy moves back to look at him with raised eyebrows.

Kevin doesn’t even have the chance to say sorry, to say anything, before the boy gently removes his hand from his mouth, playing with his fingers before he captures one between his lips and Kevin is making even more embarrassing noises. He lets it go with a quiet pop when he seems satisfied at the noises Kevin’s making before licking a wet strip up his own palm which, what?

Kevin opens his mouth to ask why but ends up saying something completely different: in fact, he doesn’t end up saying anything at all. The surge of his body at that simple touch, the grip of the boy’s fingers as he dips his hand into his underwear, and the way his hips buck upward into his hand catches Kevin off guard, leaving him gasping in the wake of the sensation.

It isn’t a centralized sensation, no, he can feel it _everywhere_ : thrumming in his stomach, prickling up the side of his neck, especially where the boy had just bitten down moments before, so that his head arches backwards as his hips rock completely of their own accord and Kevin doesn’t even realize he’s tugged his underwear down and dropped down to his knees until – oh, _gosh_.

Kevin honestly has no idea what to do, not that he’s exactly had much of a clue since he first walked in, but the boy just takes him, with the prettiest moan Kevin thinks he’s ever heard. He didn’t even know moans could be pretty. His mouth is wet and warm and Kevin knows that it should be obvious but he never imagined it would be anything like this, the pleasure like lightning cutting through his body. In the back of his mind, he hears the voice of one of the many officials at his temple warning him that it was God smiting him but Kevin had never really believed in any of that, and doubts he would care even if he did because, _gosh_. He’s biting his tongue to at least try and keep quiet, but the boy seems to revel in teasing out of him the little whimpers and moans that are desperate to tumble from his mouth. When he lets loose one particularly loud moan when the boy puts his tongue into his - into the - into the slit at the head, oh gosh, Kevin can feel him freaking smirk around his dick, the - the - _heck_.

One of his hands goes to the back of the boy’s head instinctively, and he’s not really sure what to do with it, doesn’t have the brain power to think it through. All he knows is that he does not want him to stop, does not want him to go anywhere, but the boy certainly doesn’t look like he wants to do either of these things. His lips, now even pinker, are stretched around Kevin’s dick, his hands tightening on his thighs so he can’t thrust forward or pull back. When Kevin gasps and tugs at his hair involuntarily (after he puts his tongue into the head once again, does he want to make him come down his - and, yep, yep, best to stop thinking about that now before he actually does), the boy just scoots forward on his knees and continues to sink down, fisting with his hand all that he can’t swallow.

“Heck…” Kevin finally pants, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

He has no idea how the boy manages to look sassy even when he’s got - oh, gosh, he’s got his dick in his mouth, heck, heck, heck, heck, heck - but he does, looking up at him under raised eyebrows, and Kevin just groans again. The boy smirks again and reaches for the hand tangled in the hair at the back of his neck, guiding it so that Kevin is thumbing along the edge of his lips so that he can feel himself moving in and out of his mouth, and there isn’t a curse word in any language that could express how Kevin’s feeling right now. Even if there was, he still wouldn’t say it: every time he has the breath to say anything, he still sticks to the family-friendly alternatives drummed into him since childhood.

It gets to the point where the boy finally pulls away, staring up at him with lips and chin slick with saliva, to say, “You don’t swear much, do you?”

Kevin shakes his head unsteadily, breathing hitching at every twist of the boy’s hand. “No, I, uh - Mormon, we don’t generally - heck - swear.”

“We generally don’t fuck strangers in public bathrooms as well,” the boy replies conversationally, and Kevin would be focusing on how on earth could he be so casual if not for -

“Wait, you’re a Mormon?”

“Mhm. Or was,” he says a little sharply, punctuating it with another twist of his wrist that has Kevin almost buckling. “Went on my mission and everything. Hey,” a wicked smile appears on his face, his eyebrow twitching. “Maybe that’s what you could call me. Elder McKinley.”

Kevin can’t help letting out a quiet whine at that, rocking his hips forward and making McKinley’s lips even shinier with the little glob of pre-come. He licks it away immediately, moaning softly at the taste, before taking him in again and sucking for all he’s worth though it must hurt his jaw like heck. His tongue is pressing and licking all along his dick like he’s a freaking Popsicle of his favorite flavor.

Kevin wants nothing more than to slam all the way and make the boy choke on him until he’s coming and has no choice but to swallow. He doesn’t, knows he shouldn’t, desperately keeps to the shallow, uneven rocks of his hips as his fingers scramble for a hold on the smooth bathroom wall - but McKinley seems to have a different idea. His hands slip round behind him, grabbing his ass and urging Kevin to push in deeper and deeper. He has to bring up his other arm to bite down to stop himself from crying out as McKinley just keeps sucking, the blunt press of his teeth cushioned by his wet tongue, and it isn’t long before Kevin feels himself hit the back of his throat.

He feels McKinley choke around him, swallow to try and get rid of the sensation, and tries to pull away but McKinley just presses him in deeper and, well, Kevin isn’t exactly going to protest. He does it again, and again, and again until McKinley gets used to it (or maybe he doesn’t, Kevin doesn’t know, but the way that McKinley is rocking his erection against his leg suggests he doesn’t really care either way).

“Elder - Elder McKinley, I think I’m about to -”

McKinley pulls off him immediately, fisting his dick and aiming so that the strands of come splatter around his eyes and into his hair and onto his pretty, shiny mouth.

“Heck,” he whimpers, his comedown leaving him shaky and a little weak. McKinley just licks his lips, smiling in victory, and leans forward to lick his spent cock, sending all kinds of painful aftershocks through him.

“So what…” Kevin finally manages to get out between pants, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “What now?”

“What now?” McKinley says, and there’s come in his hair and on his neck and even in his eyelashes. His voice is lower now, a little rough, as if - well, as if he’d just deep-throated someone and dang if it isn’t hot as heck. “Well, I was hoping that you’d repay the favour, but if you have something else in mind…”

“Condoms,” Kevin blurts out, and then cringes a little. Gosh, he must sound so desperate. “And lube, do you have -”

McKinley gets to his feet in one fluid motion, pressing a long finger to his lip and shushing him gently. “Are you sure you want to? Because I don’t want to push you into anything,” he says, and it’s followed by a sharp gasp as Kevin fumbles to press his hand against his crotch, and his rubbing may have a little less finesse than his but he gets exactly the reaction he wants, McKinley’s eyes rolling back into his head.

“Oh… oh….. I’ll take that as a yes, then,” and then he’s grabbing Kevin by the shoulders, maneuvering him a little roughly until he’s pushing him towards the back of the cubicle.

“What do you - what do you want me to do?” Kevin asks, bracing himself against the window ledge, and he suddenly understands why these toilets are used for this sort of thing.

“Put your legs apart,” McKinley commands. "As wide as you can get them. Stick your ass out.”

Kevin obeys before he can even think to, the sides of his shoes pressing against the cubicle walls, leaning over the window ledge so that his - his - his hips are sticking out, and he feels so dirty, so obscene, and they haven’t even gotten started yet.

Clearly not far enough, though, as McKinley tuts, sidles close back in behind him, runs a hand up under his shirt to press on his stomach so he sticks his ass out a little further, and now it’s definitely not only his hand that is pressing into him now.

“That’s better,” he says, and his hand drifts a little lower to cup his overstimulated cock and Kevin whines as he is torn between rocking forward into his hand and rocking back into his – oh, _heck_. McKinley just snickers.

When Kevin turns his head to look at him, his eyes are just as lust-blown as before but now, oh _now_ his lips are red and shiny and there’s still a little bit of come on his chin, and Kevin’s mouth is watering just to look at him.

He’s going to die from the sight, and McKinley hasn’t even laid a finger on him yet.

McKinley leans in, just a little, not a lot, not enough so that he’s kissing Kevin – who wants to, who really wants to, who craves to know how he tastes on McKinley’s lips – and says, “You doing okay there, Kevin?”

Kevin nods quickly, wets his lips a little. “Yes, just – please –”

McKinley smiles and leans back again, and his hands start to move, move to loosen his pants more and, oh heck, shove them down and away, and his underwear too, until Kevin’s half-naked in a grimy public toilet with a boy whose first name he doesn’t even know, and he’s undeniably, relentlessly aroused.

He feels the firework of excitement before the touch itself, one fleeting stroke with his finger, all of his nerves firing off at once. It’s so jolting wonderful it takes him half a minute to register how it actually felt. He wouldn’t be able to recognize his own keen if he tried, but he feels the hoarseness in his throat after, hears the sound echoing around the empty toilets.

McKinley pauses, noses at his throat a little, other hand flat on his stomach and thumb rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin. “That didn’t hurt, did if?”

“N… no,“ he says, voice shaking, shoulders heaving with every breath and sweat breaking out along the back of his neck.

“Did you like it?”

"Yes, yes,” his nerves running haywire around the base of his spine, “just _please_ –”

And he does, oh dear gosh does he: McKinley starts drawing gentle circles, dabbing and pressing with his long gentle fingers at his – gosh, Kevin doesn't want to say hole but, geez, there aren’t exactly many other ways to put it. Kevin doesn’t know how to describe it; just that he feels it and wants more of it with equal intensity. He rocks back a little, experimenting with a little more pressure, but McKinley does not – he doesn’t –

Kevin turns his head and McKinley is smirking again, and he’s teasing him, he knows he is. Pressing without once opening Kevin up, even though he’s close to begging for it, shifting his hips and making quiet noises of pleasure. “Elder, please –”

“Please what?” McKinley says casually, and dang if he’s seen a smile more sly.

Kevin lets out long groan. McKinley’s body heat is making him sweat and the air in the cubicle seems stifling. “Please, just –”

“Just what?” McKinley says pleasantly, and it would be innocently if it wasn’t for the fact that he was 5 seconds away from putting his fingers in Kevin’s ass, and he’s going to make Kevin say it, isn’t he, the jackass.

“Just – fuck me or I swear I will –” and then he is, but not quite in the way he expected, and Kevin has no more words other than a loud gasp of pleasure.

McKinley’s back on his knees again, and his tongue – the tongue that had wetted his lips so tantalizingly when he first laid eyes on him – is in his – his tongue is in his –

He has no idea when he started getting hard again, but he is, he painfully is, and he would be so mortifyingly embarrassed if the wet slick of McKinley’s tongue wasn’t firing up every nerve in his body. He’s scrabbling for something, anything to hold on to for dear life as his entire body trembles at the overwhelming pleasure, hips rolling back against McKinley’s lips to fuck himself on his tongue. He knows he’s close again – he knows he’s got a pretty fast retention time, but man – and he’s rocking back and forth and back and forth and he can feel his body seizing up, but clearly McKinley does too as, without a second of pause, McKinley is back on his feet again, one hand wrapped hard around the base of Kevin’s cock so that he doesn’t come again. His teeth bite into his neck to provide some sort of distraction even as the thumb of his other hand, wet with his own spit, still makes circles where his tongue was once.

“You ready to keep going?” McKinley asks teasingly when Kevin has recovered enough that he begins to press back a little more insistently against him.

“Yes, fuck, just –”

He draws back, and Kevin whines at the sudden lack of pressure, dropping his head on the surface of the window ledge as he pants. All it takes is the click of a bottle lid opening, and one of his long fingers is circling him again before gently pushing inside, sweeping his finger in a half circle. He knows McKinley is teasing again, but he can’t, he just can’t help it, whining and pushing back on his hand, trying to get him to complete the circle, to get anything, to get more.

It might be a second, it might be a minute, it might be more, but when McKinley presses in again, meeting the frantic push of his hips, Kevin has to bring his arm and bite down to stop the desperate noise from escaping his mouth. His finger brushes against all the nerves that had been begging for attention, and the pump of his hips becomes so frantic that’s he’s glad for the solid press of McKinley against his back otherwise he would be buckling at the knees. He’s gripping the window ledge so hard that his knuckles are turning white, the long fingers teasingly brushing against a spot in him that makes him light up every third slide in or so until Kevin is half-sobbing with it.

Oh, gosh, he’s enjoying it, he’s enjoying it more than he ever thought he could. McKinley starts biting his neck again as he slides a third finger in, the air making the skin inside where his fingers weren’t pushing tingle. Kevin doesn’t even know when he added the second finger, doesn’t care: his body feels like a live wire, just waiting to explode, because, fuck.

It’s not long before he registers McKinley’s cock rubbing against his thigh, hard and leaking, and it takes a few seconds before his mind is able to make clear the thought, “More, more, please, I need – hi ”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” Kevin begs, pressing the side of his face into the window ledge and pushing his hips out more insistently. “Need – I need –” he gives a soft, needy whine as he feels the fingers withdraw, but then there’s the sound of a condom wrapper being teared open and being rolled on, and he relaxes, shifting a little to ease the strain on his arms.

McKinley adjusts him once more, one gentle hand pressing into his hip, the other spreading him just a little wider, and then suddenly there’s pressure, and heat, and, oh.

Oh, _fuck_.

Kevin presses back immediately, biting down on his arm again to stifle a soft, desperate noise as his skin stretches around the head. His eyes flutter close as McKinley, far less willing to be quiet, gently rocks his way in, shallow thrusts punching short, sharp gasps from Kevin’s lungs. He knows he must look completely debauched, mouth open and legs spread wide, but he’s honestly too far gone to care. He’s shaking worse than before, legs and arms straining, and he needs so badly, but he isn’t moving in any deeper.

Fuck, why isn’t he moving in any deeper?

“Elder, please –” he whimpers.

McKinley laughs quietly, digging his fingers into his hips almost painfully as Kevin lets out another whimper, before he does as asked, one hand moving up his chest to wrap around his other shoulder and his hips pressing in even closer to him so that Kevin is sinking further and further down on his cock.

McKinley swears, now, and Kevin can feel his weight pressed against him, hair tickling his neck and his chin resting on his back, his shaking breath warm on Kevin’s sweat-soaked shirt. It feels surprisingly good to know McKinley’s just affected as he is, just as dazedly aroused, and Kevin deliberately gives an experimental clench when his brain catches up, just to see what’ll happen. He smiles lazily when it forces another shudder and groan out of McKinley before he begins pulling back and rutting forward again, his thrusts sharper, quicker, sending jolting sparks of pleasure through his body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Kevin pants, bracing himself with shaking arms against the window ledge, and McKinley lets out a breathless laugh in response. The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin and their ragged breathing are the only noises in the otherwise quiet toilets. The thrusts aren’t particularly hard, or rough, but they’re relentless, and Kevin’s body, already pliant from his earlier orgasm, is practically singing for him at this point. He’s ripping all these noises out of Kevin that he knows he’s never made before, all rough pants and mewls and whines and soft begs of, “harder, faster, please…..”

When his thrusts finally start to become uneven and stuttering, he hears him murmur, “You can touch yourself, you know,” which for some reason he has not been doing, too focused on the rough drag against his skin to think of anything else, and then Kevin’s just done. It only takes one twist of his wrist – one meagre little twist, pale in comparison to McKinley’s earlier, in time with another thrust of his hips – for Kevin to lock up and come.

His body practically explodes with pleasure as he comes harder than he ever has before, being sodomized by a guy he doesn’t know in a seedy, grimy, public bathroom, and it should be so wrong but all Kevin can think about is just how freaking hot it is.

Kevin can hear his moan as he tightens up even more, but McKinley seems to have no problem fucking him through his orgasm when he’s loose and pliant and relaxed and honestly, neither does Kevin. His body is so overstimulated that every jarring thrust is just a tad more pain than pleasure but, fuck, it hurts so good.

When he finally stills, gasping as he fills up the condom, Kevin’s body is fairly thrumming with pleasure. He knows that he must be bruised on his hips and shoulder and probably has a hickey on his neck, but he’s far too fucked out to care. He’s not even entirely sure he remembers his own freaking last name right now, and he’s pretty okay with that.

He never knew how satisfying it would be to hear the soft, sated moan of someone on top of him, and Kevin lifts a hand and runs it through his sweaty hair as he comes down, trembling from the aftershocks. When McKinley pulls out gently, Kevin lets out one last whine at the sudden emptiness and collapses completely against the window ledge, slumping to the side to lean on the cubicle wall.

Kevin just hears him remove the condom, toss it on the floor, and say, “Kevin Price, _look_ what you’ve done to my shirt.”

Kevin lets out a groan quite unlike all the previous ones (so that’s what his last name is) and does not bother looking around at his boyfriend, forehead still resting on the window ledge as he continues panting.

“Don’t groan at me like that: there’s come all over it, oh gosh…..”

“Should’ve swallowed, then,” Kevin replies and is rewarded with a sharp swat to his ass. “Ow! Does that mean we’re not finished? Because I think I need a moment before we go another round.”

“Oh,” Connor says, voice immediately dropping back into its flirty tone. “That good, was I?”

“Just shut up and pass me some tissues already,” Kevin says, pushing himself upright with a little difficulty. Connor fortunately just does as told, handing him a wad of tissues, and Kevin cleans himself up as best he can (not bothering with the splatters he left on the wall) and attempts to make himself look moderately decent, the clink of a belt buckle indicating that Connor is doing the same behind him. He’s smoothing out his pants, thankfully not too rumpled, when his hands brush over the back of his thighs and he stops, sighing. “At least you don’t have a giant wet patch on your ass.”

“Kevin, no one’s going to be looking at your ass, but _this_ ,” Connor tuts, and there’s a sound of tugging at fabric, “It’s so ridiculously obvious what this is, how on Earth can I go home looking like this?”

“Who says people won’t be looking at my ass?” Kevin says stubbornly as he tucks his shirt back in.

“Yes, dear, people will be looking at your ass: it’s a particularly good one, I would know,” Connor replies. “But it’s not as if people won’t be looking at my chest, I mean, have you seen me?”

Kevin turns around at this, only now completely sure that his legs won’t buckle beneath him, and finally gets to look at his boyfriend properly. His angelic-looking boyfriend who still has come dripping down his chin; his sweet and charming boyfriend who has the most smug smile that Kevin has ever seen on his face; his boyfriend who can fool almost anyone into thinking he is most innocent man alive who just fucked him in a public bathroom, and Kevin honestly doesn’t think he’s ever loved him more.

Of course, he expresses this by saying, “You’re always way too cocky after you’ve come.”

Connor raises his eyebrows. “You’re always way too cocky, period: you don’t hear me complaining.”

“I do, actually, all the time,” Kevin says, and Connor raises his hands in defeat.

“Okay, fine, I might point it out a little more than necessary, but you know I’m all about the benefits of communication,” Connor replies, and Kevin rolls his eyes. “On the topic of good communication,” he adds, and falls a little quiet, ducking his head as if to hide his shy smile. Kevin thinks it’s a bit odd to call someone he literally just had sex with cute, but it’s hardly if there’s any other way to put it. “How did that go for you?”

“Well, there’s a reason I’m still not standing straight,” Kevin says, “And it’s not because I’m not straight,” and Connor tuts again, whacks his arm lightly.

“No, I wasn’t talking about that, although that’s not to say I’m not glad to hear it,” Connor says. “I’m talking about the, you know. The roleplay.”

It takes a moment for Kevin to respond, stretching out his back muscles as he thinks it over. “I liked it. I wouldn’t want it to be like that all the time, of course, but it was a lot of fun.”

Connor’s expression turns a little smug again. “It certainly sounded like you were enjoying it – okay, okay, fine, I’ll stop –” he laughs as Kevin tries to kick him, before he breaks off, giving him a dopey smile. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“What, just in general, or –”

He breaks off into snickers when Connor whacks his arm again, retaliating by grabbing his come-splattered shirt and pulling him in close, slipping his hands underneath and pressing them into the small of his back.

“Heck, your hands are cold,” Connor hisses, and Kevin raises his eyebrows.

“Connor, considering where your tongue was not that long ago, I don’t think saying heck is going to make that much of a difference.”

“They’re still cold,” he says, and Kevin’s only response is to kiss him, finally kiss him and wrap his arms around him like he’s been wanting to since heard Connor walk through the door.

“I can’t believe we had sex,” Connor murmurs between slow kisses. “In a public bathroom, when did we get so _bad_.”

“Well, it all started when I met this guy…..”

“Mmm. He cute?” Connor asks. “Should I be jealous?”

“Well, he is the best thing to happen to my dick since I found out what it was used for.”

“Keep talking,” Connor says, pushing Kevin down so he’s sitting on the toilet seat once more and climbing into his lap.

Kevin allows a few more kisses before he draws away, bringing a finger up and placing it on his boyfriend’s lips. “And also told me that round two was going to wait until we got home.” Connor just sucks on his finger gently, swirling his tongue around it, and Kevin suppresses a groan as he tries not to dwell on what that tongue was doing not that long ago. “ _Connor_.”

He lets the finger drop out of his mouth with a sigh, although he stays sitting in Kevin’s lap. “Fine. But it is going to happen. You still haven’t given me that blowjob you promised me.”

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well, don’t think I have.”

“I’m surprised no one walked in on us,” Kevin says, and Connor smiles a little sheepishly.

“I may’ve put the out-of-order sign from the women’s toilets on the men’s,” Connor admits. “Made it a little less exciting, but I really did not want anyone walking in on us.”

“You didn’t seem that unexcited,” Kevin points out, and Connor gives his cheek a pat.

“Of course I was excited. I was with you, wasn’t I?”

Kevin just rolls his eyes and noses at his neck, breathes in the stale sweat and what little cologne still lingers as they finish coming down off their high, relaxing into each other’s arms. It’s a while before Kevin finally sighs, says, “We should probably get going, Arnold’s going to be wondering where we are.”

Connor lets out a long groan and buries his face in Kevin’s shoulder. “Can we please not talk about Arnold when I still have your come in my mouth?”

“And your hair,” Kevin tells him, and Connor makes an annoyed sound, leaning back again.

“And in my hair?” he says, unwrapping his left arm from around Kevin to reach up and untangle the strands of hair stuck together by sweat and come and what remained of the gel he’d put in this morning. Kevin watches, transfixed, as he licks it off his fingers and it takes more than a moment for Connor to notice. “What?”

“You know what you were saying about waiting until we got home…..”

“Says the one who was complaining about it not one minute ago,” Connor replies, and gives him an overly silly kiss on the nose before climbing off of Kevin’s lap and brushing himself down. “Oh, heck, my knees are filthy.”

“At least you don’t have a giant hickey on your neck,” Kevin grumbles, ringing a hand up to rub the still-slightly sore patch of skin on his neck.

“It’s really not that bad,” Connor tells him, holding out a hand (his left hand, Kevin notes, and tries not to smirk.) “Promise. Look, I’ll show you,” he adds when Kevin takes it, helping him to his feet as he unlocks the door behind him. “It’ll probably be gone by the time - oh. Em. Gosh.”

Kevin turns to look at his open-mouthed boyfriend, although for a completely different reason than before, and he cannot help cracking up, his peals of laughter ringing around the empty toilets. Oh, he doesn’t even care if he has a dozen hickeys on his neck: the look on Connor’s face as he stares in shock at his reflection, bruised lips and come-splattered and all, is worth a hundred scarfs to him now.

“Kevin Price, this is not funny, there is come all over my face,” Connor complains, reaching up to run his left hand through his hair again as Kevin reaches for him again. “People are going to see me like this,” one of his fingers (also on the left hand) reaches up to press gently at his swollen lips. “I am completely regretting this entire thing.”

“Connor, Connor, Connor,” Kevin says quickly, soothingly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. “I know you still care a lot about what other people think of you, how they might judge you, but you really do not look that bad, and you shouldn’t be valuing yourself by the thoughts of others. Remember what Jesus said about casting the first stone?”

Connor groans again, shifting so that he’s leaning his head on Kevin’s shoulder and his left hand are covering Kevin’s own on his stomach. “Rule number two, we do not mention the Lord in any way shape or form when I still have your come in my mouth.”

Kevin nods and kisses his cheek. “Deal. But if it really means that much to you, I can go and fetch you a change of clothes and, I don’t know, something for your lips.”

Kevin sees the hand in the mirror before he feels it carding through his hair, sees the lazy smile that accompanies it. “It’s fine. If we have to do the walk of shame, we may as well do it together.” They stand like that for a little longer, Kevin nosing into his neck again as Connor continues running his hand through his sweaty hair before he adds, “I don’t regret it, I didn’t mean that.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“I just wish we’d been a bit more prepared.”

“Well, it was our first time,” Kevin says reasonably. “We couldn’t have predicted everything.”

“I can’t believe you’re suggesting that we have public sex again.”

“I would personally say its semi-public, and I would like to remind you who suggested the idea in the first place.”

“You, from what I can recall.”

“Okay, maybe it was me, but you suggested the role-playing. At least you had a condom with you,” Kevin says. “I really did not want to have to go home with come dripping out of my ass.”

“It’s fine. More realistic anyway, who knows what a guy actually doing this might have, I feel like I could get herpes just by using these toilets. Urgh,” he says again, shuddering, and Kevin takes that as his cue to unwrap his arms around his boyfriend. “I need, like, fifteen showers and at least five baths.”

“I just wish we had wet wipes,” Kevin says, and Connor makes a hum of agreement as he washes his hands. “Considering it’s the two of us, we were actually really underprepared.”

Connor resurfaces from where he’d been sticking his mouth under the tap. “What do you mean?”

“Well you’re a bit of a – that’s disgusting, by the way.”

“Kevin, may I remind you, as you so gracefully did, where my tongue has been today?” Connor says.

“Okay, fair point. As I was saying, you’re a bit of an anal retentive, and I’m – well –”

“I’m not anal retentive,” Connor protests as splashes water on his face.

“Over-prepared, then,” Kevin replies, but Connor just continues over him as he brings his head back up, shaking out his wet hair and combing through it again to neaten the style.

“And you cannot honestly say that you’re organized anymore,” he says. “The only thing that you’re faintly organized about is coffee.”

“It’s a good thing you’re so over-prepared, then.”

Connor opens his mouth as if to respond with something appropriately snappy and catty, but instead takes a deep breath, gives his reflection a charming smile, and turns to begin fixing up Kevin’s shirt, smoothing down wrinkles and doing up the few buttons that had come undone.

“There. Practically perfect,” Connor says as he gives Kevin’s hair one more neatening.

“Only practically? What am I, Mary Poppins?”

“No, because you’re not Jesus,” Connor says overly-primly, and Kevin groans.

“Just because you no longer have your come on my mouth is no excuse for mentioning our Lord and Saviour so soon after we’ve had sex.”

“Now you know how I feel about you mentioning both Arnold and Jesus,” Connor says, then gestures down at himself. “Now, how do you think I look?”

“Wow, it really is all over you,” Kevin remarks, stepping back as well for a better look at the stains on Connors shirt. His red shirt. He honestly hadn’t really noticed what he was wearing before now.

“See? What did I tell you?” Connor says, fidgeting at the collar again as if that could actually make any difference. “I really wish I’d bought a change of shirt or something, or at least a jacket, but I thought it’d seem less sexy if I had a bag.”

Black pants, as well. Skinny, yes, as had become his preference (Kevin’s too, even if they could be tricky to get off quick enough), and with absolutely filthy knees, but black. “Connor…”

“What?”

“Why are you dressed like you were in my Hell dream?” he asks, and he knows that Connor is trying to keep a straight face, he can see it, the corners of his still-bruised lips twitching. “Connor…”

“Okay, fine,” he admits with a laugh. “It was an accident at first, it wasn’t my original intention, but I thought it would be funny.”

“Connor, when I told you about my Hell dream, you promised that you wouldn’t make fun of me for it. Or basically bring it up ever again.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I was bad,” Connor says, but the grin on his face very clearly contradicts his words. “At least I didn’t buy the red fluffy scarf to go with it.”

Kevin rolls his eyes but even he can’t keep the smile of his face because oh dear god is he ridiculous in love with him. “You’re reprehensible.”

“What?” Connor says, raising his eyebrows challengingly, “You jealous that I might’ve given Hitler a better blowjob than you?”

Okay, perhaps that wasn’t the best time for another man to enter the toilets but, honestly, he could’ve entered at a lot worst time, and it isn’t long after they both burst into laughter at the appalled look at his face before they’re back out in the sunshine, falling over themselves in their post-orgasm, love-struck high.  

%MCEPASTEBIN%

If he’s to be truthful about the whole thing, Kevin hasn’t been this excited since he went to Orlando when he was nine and – nope, nope, nope, he is stopping that train of thought _right there_ , he is not associating a memory as pure and as innocent as that with something like – like _this_.

Oh, _heck_.

Kevin takes a deep breath, glances around to make certain that there’s no one he knows around him, and takes a few steps towards the men’s toilets, tentative at first and then surer and surer.

The first thing that hits Kevin as he creaks open the door is the smell. It’s not – it’s not awful, exactly, just very obviously there no matter how much air freshener the cleaners use. There must be cleaners, thankfully, as it’s no grimier than your average public toilet. He considers saying thank you to his Heavenly Father but then he remembers why he’s here, what he came for, and he decides that thanking Him would be a little inappropriate.

So, no, it’s not awful. The air just smells a little salty, which embarrassingly enough just gets Kevin that little bit more excited. He recognizes it from his own little jaunts at home, knows what it means, and he’s suddenly very thankful that he’s alone.

Kevin ducks into the first cubicle, dithers over locking the door behind him. He’s not exactly sure what the etiquette is. He’s not even sure if there is etiquette in the first place – never mind that, he’s not even sure if he’s in the right place. He’s heard rumors, that’s it: rumors, and the memories of being told to not go near those toilets, young man, by his mom when he was a kid.  

When he turns, the first thing Kevin sees is an empty wrapper on the window ledge above the toilet. He takes a step closer only to – yep, nope, yep, that’s an empty condom wrapper, he’s definitely in the right place – or the wrong place. Oh, gosh, he’s definitely in the wrong place, what is he even doing here?

Kevin slowly sits down on the lid of the toilet, wringing his hands. To say he’s nervous is an understatement but it’s a good nervous, he thinks. He _wants_ this, wants to know what it’s like to – he’s still too young to get into bars and clubs, probably wouldn’t want to even if he could, and he doesn’t really know any other way to meet anyone else like him.

There’s a noise, and Kevin perks up. 

A man just walked through the door. 

A man just walked through the door into the public toilets.

A man just walked through the door into the public toilets known for encounters between men with him, Kevin, a man, specifically one who came here looking for a said encounter, also being in said public toilets.

Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh.

The man’s footsteps aren’t heavy as he walks into the cubicle next to his which Kevin takes as being a good sign, probably. He’s seen pictures of some of the more muscled men you can find in clubs and at prides and he really doesn’t think he’s ready for that. His footsteps are light, very light, in fact, and rhythmic, and, oh gosh, what if it isn’t a man at all? What if it’s a child? A child in a place like this, a place which is used for things that a child should never, ever be exposed to, and Kevin’s about to launch straight into a panic when there’s another noise. Quick, sharp, quiet, maybe the tap of a foot on the floor. Kevin blinks.

Well, there’s no harm, he thinks, and taps his own foot on the floor – and there it is again. From the cubicle next to him, a double tap, and Kevin repeats it back to him. There’s silence, and Kevin is unsure whether he’s relieved or disappointed that he might’ve done something wrong when there’s the sound of the door opening again and – oh, _heck_.

“You going to let me in or what?” says a voice and, oh gosh. It’s a little high-pitched, maybe, but Kevin honestly doesn’t think he’s heard a voice more flirty in his life. He’s only knocked out of his lust-induced haze ( _already_ , keep it together, Price) by another knock on the door.

“Right, yes, of course, sorry,” Kevin replies quickly, leaping to his feet to open the door to reveal – oh, _dang_ it.

He’s tall, taller even than him, maybe, and skinny, with legs that go on forever. His eyes could probably be compared to some sort of jewel if he so wished (Kevin might be gay but he is not _that_ gay) but they’re not what he is focusing on. A few inches under, actually: soft, pink lips curled in an amused smile, and a tongue that – a tongue that just – and Kevin really, really has the urge to cover his crotch right now.

“Took you long enough,” the boy says, and Kevin thinks boy because he doubts he’s any older than his nineteen years and because he doesn’t know his name. 

He would be panicking about the name-giving etiquette if it wasn’t for the fact that he has far better things to focus on: how the boy just closed and locked the door behind him, for one, and then sidled in so close to Kevin that his back is now pressed slightly painfully against the wall. 

How the boy just gives him this _look_ , this up and down sweep that ended with a satisfied smile for another before he moved in to –

“Kevin, my name is Kevin,” he blurts, and the boy pauses.

“Well, unless you think I’m going to be screaming it later, I don’t really need to know,” the boy tells him, before he leans back, gives him an amused look. Kevin knows that he’s blushing but he didn’t realise it was to _that_ extent. “This is your first time, isn’t it?”

An excruciatingly long moment passes before Kevin is able to swallow and slowly nod, and the boy hums and moves back a little.

“Should’ve known. Okay, then, Kevin,” he says slowly, but it’s no less seductive, a long finger moving to gently pull at his bottom lip and Kevin is suddenly really, really glad for the self-restraint given to him by his Mormon upbringing because, without it, he’s pretty sure he would’ve come in his pants just from that. “I’ll make you a deal. I can go as slow as you like for you, because I think you’re just that cute, as long as you are willing to give me a little something in return.”

“Like what?”

“You get on your knees for me,” the boy says, and it’s so careless that Kevin has to bite down on his tongue hard to keep from making a sound. “Is that okay?”

Kevin swallows, thinks it over, and slowly says, “What if I said no?”

The boy just lifts his hands away up into the air. “Then I’m wasting my time.”

“No, I mean - what if I wanted you to do what you normally do?”

“Now I’m interested. Go on.”

“Uh,” Kevin swallows again. “What is it that you normally do?”

“You wanna find out?”

Kevin slowly nods, and a smile spreads across the boy’s face. He steps back in, and Kevin’s legs spread for him embarrassingly easily, instinctively. His eyes track down Kevin’s body, from his eyes to his lips to even further, and Kevin thinks he may as well be naked for the amount of lust in his gaze. His fingers are not far behind, undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one by one, tracing down his trembling chest as it rises and falls with his desperate attempts to keep his breathing even. His hand is cold against his heated skin, which doesn’t exactly help with the trembling, and Kevin feels such a fool for not being able to do anything in return. 

“That feel good?” The boy doesn’t seem to mind, though, smirk mischievous and eyes darting between Kevin’s and his lips as he trails his fingers over his hipbone, down his stomach, dipping just slightly beneath his waistband. 

Kevin’s stomach leaps and shivers beneath his touch, rising and falling with his desperate attempts to keep his breathing even as he pants, “Yeah.”

The boy quietly laughs, and Kevin can _feel_ the smile in his lips as he presses them against his throat, can feel a whole lot more when he bites down, barely even noticing him making quick work of his belt as he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan. He claps his hand over his mouth immediately, the sound echoing around the toilets, and the boy moves back to look at him with raised eyebrows. 

Kevin doesn’t even have the chance to say sorry, to say anything, before the boy gently removes his hand from his mouth, playing with his fingers before he captures one between his lips and Kevin is making even more embarrassing noises. He lets it go with a quiet pop when he seems satisfied at the noises Kevin’s making before licking a wet strip up his own palm which, what? 

Kevin opens his mouth to ask why but ends up saying something completely different: in fact, he doesn’t end up saying anything at all. The surge of his body at that simple touch, the grip of the boy’s fingers as he dips his hand into his underwear, and the way his hips buck upward into his hand catches Kevin off guard, leaving him gasping in the wake of the sensation. 

It isn’t a centralized sensation, no, he can feel it _everywhere_ : thrumming in his stomach, prickling up the side of his neck, especially where the boy had just bitten down moments before, so that his head arches backwards as his hips rock completely of their own accord and Kevin doesn’t even realize he’s tugged his underwear down and dropped down to his knees until – oh, _gosh_. 

Kevin honestly has no idea what to do, not that he’s exactly had much of a clue since he first walked in, but the boy just takes him, with the prettiest moan Kevin thinks he’s ever heard. He didn’t even know moans could be pretty. His mouth is wet and warm and Kevin knows that it should be obvious but he never imagined it would be anything like this, the pleasure like lightning cutting through his body. In the back of his mind, he hears the voice of one of the many officials at his temple warning him that it was God smiting him but Kevin had never really believed in any of that, and doubts he would care even if he did because, _gosh_. He’s biting his tongue to at least try and keep quiet, but the boy seems to revel in teasing out of him the little whimpers and moans that are desperate to tumble from his mouth. When he lets loose one particularly loud moan when the boy puts his tongue into his - into the - into the slit at the head, oh gosh, Kevin can feel him freaking smirk around his dick, the - the - _heck_.

One of his hands goes to the back of the boy’s head instinctively, and he’s not really sure what to do with it, doesn’t have the brain power to think it through. All he knows is that he does not want him to stop, does not want him to go anywhere, but the boy certainly doesn’t look like he wants to do either of these things. His lips, now even pinker, are stretched around Kevin’s dick, his hands tightening on his thighs so he can’t thrust forward or pull back. When Kevin gasps and tugs at his hair involuntarily (after he puts his tongue into the head once again, does he want to make him come down his - and, yep, yep, best to stop thinking about that now before he actually does), the boy just scoots forward on his knees and continues to sink down, fisting with his hand all that he can’t swallow.

“Heck…” Kevin finally pants, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

He has no idea how the boy manages to look sassy even when he’s got - oh, gosh, he’s got his dick in his mouth, heck, heck, heck, heck, heck - but he does, looking up at him under raised eyebrows, and Kevin just groans again. The boy smirks again and reaches for the hand tangled in the hair at the back of his neck, guiding it so that Kevin is thumbing along the edge of his lips so that he can feel himself moving in and out of his mouth, and there isn’t a curse word in any language that could express how Kevin’s feeling right now. Even if there was, he still wouldn’t say it: every time he has the breath to say anything, he still sticks to the family-friendly alternatives drummed into him since childhood.

It gets to the point where the boy finally pulls away, staring up at him with lips and chin slick with saliva, to say, “You don’t swear much, do you?”

Kevin shakes his head unsteadily, breathing hitching at every twist of the boy’s hand. “No, I, uh - Mormon, we don’t generally - heck - swear.”

“We generally don’t fuck strangers in public bathrooms as well,” the boy replies conversationally, and Kevin would be focusing on how on earth could he be so casual if not for -

“Wait, you’re a Mormon?”

“Mhm. Or was,” he says a little sharply, punctuating it with another twist of his wrist that has Kevin almost buckling. “Went on my mission and everything. Hey,” a wicked smile appears on his face, his eyebrow twitching. “Maybe that’s what you could call me. Elder McKinley.”

Kevin can’t help letting out a quiet whine at that, rocking his hips forward and making McKinley’s lips even shinier with the little glob of pre-come. He licks it away immediately, moaning softly at the taste, before taking him in again and sucking for all he’s worth though it must hurt his jaw like heck. His tongue is pressing and licking all along his dick like he’s a freaking Popsicle of his favorite flavor. 

Kevin wants nothing more than to slam all the way and make the boy choke on him until he’s coming and has no choice but to swallow. He doesn’t, knows he shouldn’t, desperately keeps to the shallow, uneven rocks of his hips as his fingers scramble for a hold on the smooth bathroom wall - but McKinley seems to have a different idea. His hands slip round behind him, grabbing his ass and urging Kevin to push in deeper and deeper. He has to bring up his other arm to bite down to stop himself from crying out as McKinley just keeps sucking, the blunt press of his teeth cushioned by his wet tongue, and it isn’t long before Kevin feels himself hit the back of his throat. 

He feels McKinley choke around him, swallow to try and get rid of the sensation, and tries to pull away but McKinley just presses him in deeper and, well, Kevin isn’t exactly going to protest. He does it again, and again, and again until McKinley gets used to it (or maybe he doesn’t, Kevin doesn’t know, but the way that McKinley is rocking his erection against his leg suggests he doesn’t really care either way).

“Elder - Elder McKinley, I think I’m about to -”

McKinley pulls off him immediately, fisting his dick and aiming so that the strands of come splatter around his eyes and into his hair and onto his pretty, shiny mouth.

“Heck,” he whimpers, his comedown leaving him shaky and a little weak. McKinley just licks his lips, smiling in victory, and leans forward to lick his spent cock, sending all kinds of painful aftershocks through him.

“So what…” Kevin finally manages to get out between pants, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “What now?”

“What now?” McKinley says, and there’s come in his hair and on his neck and even in his eyelashes. His voice is lower now, a little rough, as if - well, as if he’d just deep-throated someone and dang if it isn’t hot as heck. “Well, I was hoping that you’d repay the favour, but if you have something else in mind…”

“Condoms,” Kevin blurts out, and then cringes a little. Gosh, he must sound so desperate. “And lube, do you have -”

McKinley gets to his feet in one fluid motion, pressing a long finger to his lip and shushing him gently. “Are you sure you want to? Because I don’t want to push you into anything,” he says, and it’s followed by a sharp gasp as Kevin fumbles to press his hand against his crotch, and his rubbing may have a little less finesse than his but he gets exactly the reaction he wants, McKinley’s eyes rolling back into his head.

“Oh… oh….. I’ll take that as a yes, then,” and then he’s grabbing Kevin by the shoulders, maneuvering him a little roughly until he’s pushing him towards the back of the cubicle.

“What do you - what do you want me to do?” Kevin asks, bracing himself against the window ledge, and he suddenly understands why these toilets are used for this sort of thing.

“Put your legs apart,” McKinley commands. "As wide as you can get them. Stick your ass out.”

Kevin obeys before he can even think to, the sides of his shoes pressing against the cubicle walls, leaning over the window ledge so that his - his - his hips are sticking out, and he feels so dirty, so obscene, and they haven’t even gotten started yet.

Clearly not far enough, though, as McKinley tuts, sidles close back in behind him, runs a hand up under his shirt to press on his stomach so he sticks his ass out a little further, and now it’s definitely not only his hand that is pressing into him now.

“That’s better,” he says, and his hand drifts a little lower to cup his overstimulated cock and Kevin whines as he is torn between rocking forward into his hand and rocking back into his – oh, _heck_. McKinley just snickers.

When Kevin turns his head to look at him, his eyes are just as lust-blown as before but now, oh _now_ his lips are red and shiny and there’s still a little bit of come on his chin, and Kevin’s mouth is watering just to look at him.

He’s going to die from the sight, and McKinley hasn’t even laid a finger on him yet.

McKinley leans in, just a little, not a lot, not enough so that he’s kissing Kevin – who wants to, who really wants to, who craves to know how he tastes on McKinley’s lips – and says, “You doing okay there, Kevin?”

Kevin nods quickly, wets his lips a little. “Yes, just – please –”

McKinley smiles and leans back again, and his hands start to move, move to loosen his pants more and, oh heck, shove them down and away, and his underwear too, until Kevin’s half-naked in a grimy public toilet with a boy whose first name he doesn’t even know, and he’s undeniably, relentlessly aroused.

He feels the firework of excitement before the touch itself, one fleeting stroke with his finger, all of his nerves firing off at once. It’s so jolting wonderful it takes him half a minute to register how it actually felt. He wouldn’t be able to recognize his own keen if he tried, but he feels the hoarseness in his throat after, hears the sound echoing around the empty toilets.

McKinley pauses, noses at his throat a little, other hand flat on his stomach and thumb rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin. “That didn’t hurt, did if?”

“N… no,“ he says, voice shaking, shoulders heaving with every breath and sweat breaking out along the back of his neck.

“Did you like it?”

"Yes, yes,” his nerves running haywire around the base of his spine, “just _please_ –”

And he does, oh dear gosh does he: McKinley starts drawing gentle circles, dabbing and pressing with his long gentle fingers at his – gosh, Kevin doesn't want to say hole but, geez, there aren’t exactly many other ways to put it. Kevin doesn’t know how to describe it; just that he feels it and wants more of it with equal intensity. He rocks back a little, experimenting with a little more pressure, but McKinley does not – he doesn’t –

Kevin turns his head and McKinley is smirking again, and he’s teasing him, he knows he is. Pressing without once opening Kevin up, even though he’s close to begging for it, shifting his hips and making quiet noises of pleasure. “Elder, please –”

“Please what?” McKinley says casually, and dang if he’s seen a smile more sly.

Kevin lets out long groan. McKinley’s body heat is making him sweat and the air in the cubicle seems stifling. “Please, just –”

“Just what?” McKinley says pleasantly, and it would be innocently if it wasn’t for the fact that he was 5 seconds away from putting his fingers in Kevin’s ass, and he’s going to make Kevin say it, isn’t he, the jackass.

“Just – fuck me or I swear I will –” and then he is, but not quite in the way he expected, and Kevin has no more words other than a loud gasp of pleasure.

McKinley’s back on his knees again, and his tongue – the tongue that had wetted his lips so tantalizingly when he first laid eyes on him – is in his – his tongue is in his –

He has no idea when he started getting hard again, but he is, he painfully is, and he would be so mortifyingly embarrassed if the wet slick of McKinley’s tongue wasn’t firing up every nerve in his body. He’s scrabbling for something, anything to hold on to for dear life as his entire body trembles at the overwhelming pleasure, hips rolling back against McKinley’s lips to fuck himself on his tongue. He knows he’s close again – he knows he’s got a pretty fast retention time, but man – and he’s rocking back and forth and back and forth and he can feel his body seizing up, but clearly McKinley does too as, without a second of pause, McKinley is back on his feet again, one hand wrapped hard around the base of Kevin’s cock so that he doesn’t come again. His teeth bite into his neck to provide some sort of distraction even as the thumb of his other hand, wet with his own spit, still makes circles where his tongue was once.

“You ready to keep going?” McKinley asks teasingly when Kevin has recovered enough that he begins to press back a little more insistently against him.

“Yes, fuck, just –”

He draws back, and Kevin whines at the sudden lack of pressure, dropping his head on the surface of the window ledge as he pants. All it takes is the click of a bottle lid opening, and one of his long fingers is circling him again before gently pushing inside, sweeping his finger in a half circle. He knows McKinley is teasing again, but he can’t, he just can’t help it, whining and pushing back on his hand, trying to get him to complete the circle, to get anything, to get more.

It might be a second, it might be a minute, it might be more, but when McKinley presses in again, meeting the frantic push of his hips, Kevin has to bring his arm and bite down to stop the desperate noise from escaping his mouth. His finger brushes against all the nerves that had been begging for attention, and the pump of his hips becomes so frantic that’s he’s glad for the solid press of McKinley against his back otherwise he would be buckling at the knees. He’s gripping the window ledge so hard that his knuckles are turning white, the long fingers teasingly brushing against a spot in him that makes him light up every third slide in or so until Kevin is half-sobbing with it.

Oh, gosh, he’s enjoying it, he’s enjoying it more than he ever thought he could. McKinley starts biting his neck again as he slides a third finger in, the air making the skin inside where his fingers weren’t pushing tingle. Kevin doesn’t even know when he added the second finger, doesn’t care: his body feels like a live wire, just waiting to explode, because, fuck.

It’s not long before he registers McKinley’s cock rubbing against his thigh, hard and leaking, and it takes a few seconds before his mind is able to make clear the thought, “More, more, please, I need – hi ”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” Kevin begs, pressing the side of his face into the window ledge and pushing his hips out more insistently. “Need – I need –” he gives a soft, needy whine as he feels the fingers withdraw, but then there’s the sound of a condom wrapper being teared open and being rolled on, and he relaxes, shifting a little to ease the strain on his arms.

McKinley adjusts him once more, one gentle hand pressing into his hip, the other spreading him just a little wider, and then suddenly there’s pressure, and heat, and, oh. 

Oh, _fuck_.

Kevin presses back immediately, biting down on his arm again to stifle a soft, desperate noise as his skin stretches around the head. His eyes flutter close as McKinley, far less willing to be quiet, gently rocks his way in, shallow thrusts punching short, sharp gasps from Kevin’s lungs. He knows he must look completely debauched, mouth open and legs spread wide, but he’s honestly too far gone to care. He’s shaking worse than before, legs and arms straining, and he needs so badly, but he isn’t moving in any deeper. 

Fuck, why isn’t he moving in any deeper?

“Elder, please –” he whimpers. 

McKinley laughs quietly, digging his fingers into his hips almost painfully as Kevin lets out another whimper, before he does as asked, one hand moving up his chest to wrap around his other shoulder and his hips pressing in even closer to him so that Kevin is sinking further and further down on his cock.

McKinley swears, now, and Kevin can feel his weight pressed against him, hair tickling his neck and his chin resting on his back, his shaking breath warm on Kevin’s sweat-soaked shirt. It feels surprisingly good to know McKinley’s just affected as he is, just as dazedly aroused, and Kevin deliberately gives an experimental clench when his brain catches up, just to see what’ll happen. He smiles lazily when it forces another shudder and groan out of McKinley before he begins pulling back and rutting forward again, his thrusts sharper, quicker, sending jolting sparks of pleasure through his body. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Kevin pants, bracing himself with shaking arms against the window ledge, and McKinley lets out a breathless laugh in response. The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin and their ragged breathing are the only noises in the otherwise quiet toilets. The thrusts aren’t particularly hard, or rough, but they’re relentless, and Kevin’s body, already pliant from his earlier orgasm, is practically singing for him at this point. He’s ripping all these noises out of Kevin that he knows he’s never made before, all rough pants and mewls and whines and soft begs of, “harder, faster, please…..”

When his thrusts finally start to become uneven and stuttering, he hears him murmur, “You can touch yourself, you know,” which for some reason he has not been doing, too focused on the rough drag against his skin to think of anything else, and then Kevin’s just done. It only takes one twist of his wrist – one meagre little twist, pale in comparison to McKinley’s earlier, in time with another thrust of his hips – for Kevin to lock up and come.

His body practically explodes with pleasure as he comes harder than he ever has before, being sodomized by a guy he doesn’t know in a seedy, grimy, public bathroom, and it should be so wrong but all Kevin can think about is just how freaking hot it is.

Kevin can hear his moan as he tightens up even more, but McKinley seems to have no problem fucking him through his orgasm when he’s loose and pliant and relaxed and honestly, neither does Kevin. His body is so overstimulated that every jarring thrust is just a tad more pain than pleasure but, fuck, it hurts so good.

When he finally stills, gasping as he fills up the condom, Kevin’s body is fairly thrumming with pleasure. He knows that he must be bruised on his hips and shoulder and probably has a hickey on his neck, but he’s far too fucked out to care. He’s not even entirely sure he remembers his own freaking last name right now, and he’s pretty okay with that.

He never knew how satisfying it would be to hear the soft, sated moan of someone on top of him, and Kevin lifts a hand and runs it through his sweaty hair as he comes down, trembling from the aftershocks. When McKinley pulls out gently, Kevin lets out one last whine at the sudden emptiness and collapses completely against the window ledge, slumping to the side to lean on the cubicle wall.

Kevin just hears him remove the condom, toss it on the floor, and say, “Kevin Price, _look_ what you’ve done to my shirt.”

Kevin lets out a groan quite unlike all the previous ones (so that’s what his last name is) and does not bother looking around at his boyfriend, forehead still resting on the window ledge as he continues panting. 

“Don’t groan at me like that: there’s come all over it, oh gosh…..”

“Should’ve swallowed, then,” Kevin replies and is rewarded with a sharp swat to his ass. “Ow! Does that mean we’re not finished? Because I think I need a moment before we go another round.”

“Oh,” Connor says, voice immediately dropping back into its flirty tone. “That good, was I?”

“Just shut up and pass me some tissues already,” Kevin says, pushing himself upright with a little difficulty. Connor fortunately just does as told, handing him a wad of tissues, and Kevin cleans himself up as best he can (not bothering with the splatters he left on the wall) and attempts to make himself look moderately decent, the clink of a belt buckle indicating that Connor is doing the same behind him. He’s smoothing out his pants, thankfully not too rumpled, when his hands brush over the back of his thighs and he stops, sighing. “At least you don’t have a giant wet patch on your ass.”

“Kevin, no one’s going to be looking at your ass, but _this_ ,” Connor tuts, and there’s a sound of tugging at fabric, “It’s so ridiculously obvious what this is, how on Earth can I go home looking like this?”

“Who says people won’t be looking at my ass?” Kevin says stubbornly as he tucks his shirt back in.

“Yes, dear, people will be looking at your ass: it’s a particularly good one, I would know,” Connor replies. “But it’s not as if people won’t be looking at my chest, I mean, have you seen me?”

Kevin turns around at this, only now completely sure that his legs won’t buckle beneath him, and finally gets to look at his boyfriend properly. His angelic-looking boyfriend who still has come dripping down his chin; his sweet and charming boyfriend who has the most smug smile that Kevin has ever seen on his face; his boyfriend who can fool almost anyone into thinking he is most innocent man alive who just fucked him in a public bathroom, and Kevin honestly doesn’t think he’s ever loved him more.

Of course, he expresses this by saying, “You’re always way too cocky after you’ve come.”

Connor raises his eyebrows. “You’re always way too cocky, period: you don’t hear me complaining.”

“I do, actually, all the time,” Kevin says, and Connor raises his hands in defeat.

“Okay, fine, I might point it out a little more than necessary, but you know I’m all about the benefits of communication,” Connor replies, and Kevin rolls his eyes. “On the topic of good communication,” he adds, and falls a little quiet, ducking his head as if to hide his shy smile. Kevin thinks it’s a bit odd to call someone he literally just had sex with cute, but it’s hardly if there’s any other way to put it. “How did that go for you?”

“Well, there’s a reason I’m still not standing straight,” Kevin says, “And it’s not because I’m not straight,” and Connor tuts again, whacks his arm lightly.

“No, I wasn’t talking about that, although that’s not to say I’m not glad to hear it,” Connor says. “I’m talking about the, you know. The roleplay.”

It takes a moment for Kevin to respond, stretching out his back muscles as he thinks it over. “I liked it. I wouldn’t want it to be like that all the time, of course, but it was a lot of fun.”

Connor’s expression turns a little smug again. “It certainly sounded like you were enjoying it – okay, okay, fine, I’ll stop –” he laughs as Kevin tries to kick him, before he breaks off, giving him a dopey smile. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“What, just in general, or –”

He breaks off into snickers when Connor whacks his arm again, retaliating by grabbing his come-splattered shirt and pulling him in close, slipping his hands underneath and pressing them into the small of his back.

“Heck, your hands are cold,” Connor hisses, and Kevin raises his eyebrows.

“Connor, considering where your tongue was not that long ago, I don’t think saying heck is going to make that much of a difference.”

“They’re still cold,” he says, and Kevin’s only response is to kiss him, finally kiss him and wrap his arms around him like he’s been wanting to since heard Connor walk through the door.

“I can’t believe we had sex,” Connor murmurs between slow kisses. “In a public bathroom, when did we get so _bad_.”

“Well, it all started when I met this guy…..”

“Mmm. He cute?” Connor asks. “Should I be jealous?”

“Well, he is the best thing to happen to my dick since I found out what it was used for.”

“Keep talking,” Connor says, pushing Kevin down so he’s sitting on the toilet seat once more and climbing into his lap.

Kevin allows a few more kisses before he draws away, bringing a finger up and placing it on his boyfriend’s lips. “And also told me that round two was going to wait until we got home.” Connor just sucks on his finger gently, swirling his tongue around it, and Kevin suppresses a groan as he tries not to dwell on what that tongue was doing not that long ago. “ _Connor_.”

He lets the finger drop out of his mouth with a sigh, although he stays sitting in Kevin’s lap. “Fine. But it is going to happen. You still haven’t given me that blowjob you promised me.”

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well, don’t think I have.”

“I’m surprised no one walked in on us,” Kevin says, and Connor smiles a little sheepishly.

“I may’ve put the out-of-order sign from the women’s toilets on the men’s,” Connor admits. “Made it a little less exciting, but I really did not want anyone walking in on us.”

“You didn’t seem that unexcited,” Kevin points out, and Connor gives his cheek a pat.

“Of course I was excited. I was with you, wasn’t I?”

Kevin just rolls his eyes and noses at his neck, breathes in the stale sweat and what little cologne still lingers as they finish coming down off their high, relaxing into each other’s arms. It’s a while before Kevin finally sighs, says, “We should probably get going, Arnold’s going to be wondering where we are.”

Connor lets out a long groan and buries his face in Kevin’s shoulder. “Can we please not talk about Arnold when I still have your come in my mouth?”

“And your hair,” Kevin tells him, and Connor makes an annoyed sound, leaning back again.

“And in my hair?” he says, unwrapping his left arm from around Kevin to reach up and untangle the strands of hair stuck together by sweat and come and what remained of the gel he’d put in this morning. Kevin watches, transfixed, as he licks it off his fingers and it takes more than a moment for Connor to notice. “What?”

“You know what you were saying about waiting until we got home…..”

“Says the one who was complaining about it not one minute ago,” Connor replies, and gives him an overly silly kiss on the nose before climbing off of Kevin’s lap and brushing himself down. “Oh, heck, my knees are filthy.”

“At least you don’t have a giant hickey on your neck,” Kevin grumbles, ringing a hand up to rub the still-slightly sore patch of skin on his neck.

“It’s really not that bad,” Connor tells him, holding out a hand (his left hand, Kevin notes, and tries not to smirk.) “Promise. Look, I’ll show you,” he adds when Kevin takes it, helping him to his feet as he unlocks the door behind him. “It’ll probably be gone by the time - oh. Em. Gosh.”

Kevin turns to look at his open-mouthed boyfriend, although for a completely different reason than before, and he cannot help cracking up, his peals of laughter ringing around the empty toilets. Oh, he doesn’t even care if he has a dozen hickeys on his neck: the look on Connor’s face as he stares in shock at his reflection, bruised lips and come-splattered and all, is worth a hundred scarfs to him now.

“Kevin Price, this is not funny, there is come all over my face,” Connor complains, reaching up to run his left hand through his hair again as Kevin reaches for him again. “People are going to see me like this,” one of his fingers (also on the left hand) reaches up to press gently at his swollen lips. “I am completely regretting this entire thing.”

“Connor, Connor, Connor,” Kevin says quickly, soothingly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. “I know you still care a lot about what other people think of you, how they might judge you, but you really do not look that bad, and you shouldn’t be valuing yourself by the thoughts of others. Remember what Jesus said about casting the first stone?”

Connor groans again, shifting so that he’s leaning his head on Kevin’s shoulder and his left hand are covering Kevin’s own on his stomach. “Rule number two, we do not mention the Lord in any way shape or form when I still have your come in my mouth.”

Kevin nods and kisses his cheek. “Deal. But if it really means that much to you, I can go and fetch you a change of clothes and, I don’t know, something for your lips.”

Kevin sees the hand in the mirror before he feels it carding through his hair, sees the lazy smile that accompanies it. “It’s fine. If we have to do the walk of shame, we may as well do it together.” They stand like that for a little longer, Kevin nosing into his neck again as Connor continues running his hand through his sweaty hair before he adds, “I don’t regret it, I didn’t mean that.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“I just wish we’d been a bit more prepared.”

“Well, it was our first time,” Kevin says reasonably. “We couldn’t have predicted everything.”

“I can’t believe you’re suggesting that we have public sex again.”

“I would personally say its semi-public, and I would like to remind you who suggested the idea in the first place.”

“You, from what I can recall.”

“Okay, maybe it was me, but you suggested the role-playing. At least you had a condom with you,” Kevin says. “I really did not want to have to go home with come dripping out of my ass.”

“It’s fine. More realistic anyway, who knows what a guy actually doing this might have, I feel like I could get herpes just by using these toilets. Urgh,” he says again, shuddering, and Kevin takes that as his cue to unwrap his arms around his boyfriend. “I need, like, fifteen showers and at least five baths.”

“I just wish we had wet wipes,” Kevin says, and Connor makes a hum of agreement as he washes his hands. “Considering it’s the two of us, we were actually really underprepared.”

Connor resurfaces from where he’d been sticking his mouth under the tap. “What do you mean?”

“Well you’re a bit of a – that’s disgusting, by the way.”

“Kevin, may I remind you, as you so gracefully did, where my tongue has been today?” Connor says.

“Okay, fair point. As I was saying, you’re a bit of an anal retentive, and I’m – well –”

“I’m not anal retentive,” Connor protests as splashes water on his face.

“Over-prepared, then,” Kevin replies, but Connor just continues over him as he brings his head back up, shaking out his wet hair and combing through it again to neaten the style.

“And you cannot honestly say that you’re organized anymore,” he says. “The only thing that you’re faintly organized about is coffee.”

“It’s a good thing you’re so over-prepared, then.”

Connor opens his mouth as if to respond with something appropriately snappy and catty, but instead takes a deep breath, gives his reflection a charming smile, and turns to begin fixing up Kevin’s shirt, smoothing down wrinkles and doing up the few buttons that had come undone.

“There. Practically perfect,” Connor says as he gives Kevin’s hair one more neatening.

“Only practically? What am I, Mary Poppins?”

“No, because you’re not Jesus,” Connor says overly-primly, and Kevin groans.

“Just because you no longer have your come on my mouth is no excuse for mentioning our Lord and Saviour so soon after we’ve had sex.”

“Now you know how I feel about you mentioning both Arnold and Jesus,” Connor says, then gestures down at himself. “Now, how do you think I look?”

“Wow, it really is all over you,” Kevin remarks, stepping back as well for a better look at the stains on Connors shirt. His red shirt. He honestly hadn’t really noticed what he was wearing before now.

“See? What did I tell you?” Connor says, fidgeting at the collar again as if that could actually make any difference. “I really wish I’d bought a change of shirt or something, or at least a jacket, but I thought it’d seem less sexy if I had a bag.”

Black pants, as well. Skinny, yes, as had become his preference (Kevin’s too, even if they could be tricky to get off quick enough), and with absolutely filthy knees, but black. “Connor…”

“What?”

“Why are you dressed like you were in my Hell dream?” he asks, and he knows that Connor is trying to keep a straight face, he can see it, the corners of his still-bruised lips twitching. “Connor…”

“Okay, fine,” he admits with a laugh. “It was an accident at first, it wasn’t my original intention, but I thought it would be funny.”

“Connor, when I told you about my Hell dream, you promised that you wouldn’t make fun of me for it. Or basically bring it up ever again.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I was bad,” Connor says, but the grin on his face very clearly contradicts his words. “At least I didn’t buy the red fluffy scarf to go with it.”

Kevin rolls his eyes but even he can’t keep the smile of his face because oh dear god is he ridiculous in love with him. “You’re reprehensible.”

“What?” Connor says, raising his eyebrows challengingly, “You jealous that I might’ve given Hitler a better blowjob than you?”

Okay, perhaps that wasn’t the best time for another man to enter the toilets but, honestly, he could’ve entered at a lot worst time, and it isn’t long after they both burst into laughter at the appalled look at his face before they’re back out in the sunshine, falling over themselves in their post-orgasm, love-struck high.  


End file.
